


Something Subtle

by sevendeadlylynns



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drugs, Dubious Consent, Eventual Relationships, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Physical/Emotional Abuse, Police Officer Ray, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Relationships, sedatives, threats of murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6595330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlylynns/pseuds/sevendeadlylynns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Gerard began, somewhat awkwardly. “Are we going to question what the other is doing out here at this time of night, or should I keep walking?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, as if he was nervous, as if he wanted to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stranger Danger

His mind was hazy, as was his perception. It might have been the fact that it was two-thirty seven in the morning - was it really? already? - but, more likely than not, it was the joint resting between his fingers. He was sitting on a rather large rock by a creek, his favorite place to smoke. It was secluded, so his parents would never find him (not that they ever looked) and the soft sounds of the creek soothed his nerves, made him feel a little less lonely.

It was the first week of August, three weeks before he left for college and three months before he turned nineteen. On this particular August night - morning - however, it was hot, especially for New Jersey, and _humid_ , so he set his expertly rolled joint down, took the almost-empty bag of weed out of his pocket, and began the process of taking his jacket off. Halfway through, with one arm in a sleeve and one out, he caught sight of his tattoos in the dappled moonlight filtering down through the trees and stopped for a moment to admire them. The colors almost seemed more vibrant than under the sun (it was the weed haze, if he was being honest with himself).

“Nice ink, man.”

A voice broke through his thoughts, startling him from behind. He twisted around, trying to locate the source, but instead lost his balance and fell backwards with an explicative. Just as he was about to hit the ground, a pair of soft but strong hands appeared below his shoulders, keeping him from meeting the ground in the worst way possible. He was seated again after a few seconds of effort and finally got a better look at his savior.

He was male, and beautiful, but that was all that could be seen at the moment (the colors had gone away again). A few seconds of open-mouthed silence, then, “Hi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, you’re fine, I just didn’t hear you coming is all,” was the reply that came with a vigorous shaking of the head, “but thanks for saving me. My name’s Frank, by the way.” Apparently, privacy was not a priority when he was high.

“Gerard,” the not-so-nameless stranger returned, extending a hand. Frank shook it - using the arm that was still in the sleeve - then quickly finished removing his jacket, letting it fall to the ground beside the rock.

A few seconds more.

“So,” Gerard began, somewhat awkwardly. “Are we going to question what the other is doing out here at this time of night, or should I keep walking?” He shoved his hands into his pockets, as if he was nervous, as if he wanted to stay.

Frank didn’t notice that, though; he was too enraptured by the man’s melodic voice. He shrugged at the question. “I’m just getting high. Care to join? I’ve got enough for one more,” he offered, holding out the bag.

Gerard eyed the (lack of) contents nervously. “Are you sure? I don’t want to use it all up…”

“Relax,” Frank scoffed. “You just saved my life; it’s the least I could do.”

“I don’t think you would have died, I just-”

“Shut up and smoke,” Frank giggled, leaning forward to tug one of Gerard’s hands out from its hiding spot and pressing the bag into it. He dug out his lighter from his back pocket, then moved to the side and patted the empty space, inviting Gerard to sit. Frank re-lit his own joint and took a long drag before handing the lighter to Gerard. They smoked in silence for a few minutes.

“So, do you live around here?” Frank questioned.

His partner shrugged. “Not really. I mean, it’s a short drive, but a long walk. I don’t mind the walking, though… The creek is very peaceful,” he mused, seemingly lost in thought. “What about you?” he asked after a long moment.

Frank took one long, last drag then stubbed the last of the joint out on the rock. “Yeah, my house is about a ten minute walk… Uh… Thataway,” he replied, twisting around to point an unsteady finger in the general direction of his house.

“Nice.” Frank hummed in agreement, turning back around to lean on his hands, staring at the leaves on the tops of the trees while Gerard finished smoking.

“Hey,” Gerard began softly, causing Frank to turn his eyes back to him.

 _Wow,_ he thought, _he’s really pretty._ “Yeah?” he said out loud.

“Okay, so… Confession time. I actually came out here to get high, too. I’ve got these pills - better than anything I’ve had before.”

“What kind is it?”

“I don’t know the name, but there’s two pills - the red ones make you fly, and the blue ones help you fall when you’re done. Want one?”

“Sure, thanks, man,” Frank replied eagerly. Yes, he knew the whole thing about not taking anything when you didn’t know what it was, but Gerard seemed trustworthy. Besides, he had accepted Frank’s weed. Also, he was stoned as fuck - rationality was not something that had much power. It was with that mindset that he accepted the small red pill from the man’s outstretched hand and quickly swallowed it.

He could feel the effect almost immediately - it felt like his soul was literally leaving his body, rising up, up, up. “Wow,” he groaned, turning to Gerard. He was much closer than he was before. In a detached sort of way, he felt one of Gerard’s arms come up behind his shoulders. He leaned into his body, unable to resist.

He didn’t really know when he lost the ability to move at all, or at what point his eyes rolled back in their sockets and everything turned black.

 

_Knock, knock, knock._

Silence.

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Frank?”

_Knock, knock, knock._

“Frank, honey, it’s two in the afternoon. This is late, even for you. Is everything okay in there?”

Silence.

A door is opened.

A bedroom is found to be empty, unused the night before.

A mother falls to her knees.

“Oh, God, no.”


	2. From Shadow to the Void

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, but I forgot to clarify something at the beginning of this. I chose not to use Archive warnings for this because, being a beginning writer, I don't know to what intensity I will be brave enough to write and post when it comes to questionable matter. Please note that I did use a "mature" rating for this story because there will be mature content in it - or, at the very least, mentions. That being said, this does deal with kidnapping and drug use, so expect emotional and physical abuse as they will come up later. If there is triggering content in the chapter, I will mention it in the beginning and do my best to make it easy to retain most of the plot without anyone having to worry. If you have a trigger that I do not mention: 1) I am truly sorry. 2) Please mention what it is in the comments so that I can warn ahead of time if it does come up in later chapters. Thank you for your time.

Frank woke slowly, like he always did. As his brain turned on again, something was there, nagging him, telling him something was wrong… Whatever. It was probably some after-effect of last night…

Wait.

All drowsiness disappeared. Without moving, he opened his eyes. No, this dimly-lit room was not his.

Shit.

Shit shit shit fucking _shit_.

He could feel his heart begin to race as his eyes darted around and his ears strained to hear movement, breathing - anything. After the longest moment of his life, he was sure he was alone. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Small victories, and all that jazz.

Slowly, Frank sat up and pushed the thin sheet off - good, he was still wearing clothes. Well. His jeans and boxers, anyway His shirt and jacket were nowhere to be seen. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he saw that the bed he was sitting on had a post on each corner. He didn’t like possibilities _that_ presented, but nothing hurt or felt otherwise unnatural except his head. And ankle.

What?

He tried to pull in his legs, but the right one was stopped with a jerk. Frantic, Frank shoved the sheet completely off, exposing a four-inch-wide cuff around his jeans. He experimentally tugged at it again. He didn’t expect it to work, although there was some hope in the back of his mind, so he wasn’t so much crushed as he was disappointed when he realized he wouldn’t be escaping that way. And he didn’t want to be one of those people who kept on repeating a useless action and end up tired; if he was going to get out of this, he would need to save every ounce of energy.

So, he figured the best course of action at the present time would be to lay back and cover himself up again. If Gerald - no. Jerry? Gerard? Yeah, Gerard. If Gerard came back in and found him awake, he figured he would try and make him talk. At the very least of the spectrum of activity. Frank didn’t really want to think about what would happen above that. If Gerard came in and found him asleep, there was the chance that he would leave again. Not that it wouldn’t stop him from ever eventually waking him up… But really, delaying was all he could do, so he would do his best to do it.

As he lay waiting, he wasn’t sure if his brain was filling in the silence for him, or if he actually heard what he thought he did. Or maybe he was drifting in and out of consciousness with nothing to help him tell the passing of time or any difference between the real world and his. In any case, screaming, guitar, laughter, and two thuds were difficult to imagine being made as close together as he thought they were.

After what _felt_ like four hours, he heard the quiet sound of a door being opened. He wouldn’t have heard it if it hadn’t been preceded by such a large amount of silence, but it had been, so he did. Frank did his best to keep still while also straining for any more sound - breathing, walking, the door shutting - but there seemed to be nothing to be heard.

Just when he had begun to think that he had imagined the sound, he felt something on his face. His nerves had been strung so tight while trying to hear, well, _anything,_ that he couldn’t stop himself from acting on instinct, flinching away violently as his eyelids flew open.

The first thing he saw was a hand, positioned where his head had been less than a second before. Of course, he knew who it belonged to, but that didn’t stop his eyes from travelling up the wrist and arm, past the shoulder, and to the face of his captor.

The _beautiful_ face of his captor.

Damn it, why did he still have to be pretty? Of course, he still felt a rush of fear, but wasn’t that supposed to make people less attractive? He’d read about things like this - in the books, the face that was angelic looked like the devil after a detestable act… So why didn’t Gerard?

And why was he even worrying about this? The man had just been stroking his face - why was he thinking about how appealing he was? He wanted to look away, to sit up and restore some shred of dignity, but he just _couldn’t._ And he didn’t know if it was out of captivation (seriously, were those drugs still in his system?) or fear of reprimand if he moved. So he stayed still, on his back, gaze shifting back and forth between those two hazel eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

The familiar words, spoken as smoothly as the first time, caused dread to pool in Frank’s stomach. He shrank back infinitesimally, unconsciously.

Gerard seemed to realize his hand was still inches away from Frank’s face and let it fall back to its natural resting place. “You’ve been asleep for a while. I wasn’t expecting the pills to knock you out for so long, so I’m afraid I have to apologize a second time.”

Why was he apologizing? Wasn’t he supposed to be yelling or hitting or something?

A sigh. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. You can talk.”

Frank opened his mouth, but found he didn’t have any words to say. He closed it again.

“Come on, is there something you need? Food? Water?”

He shook his head. He wouldn’t trust anything put in front of him by Gerard.

“There must be something you want to say to me.”

Actually, there was. Gathering up all his courage, Frank whispered, “Why?”

Immediately, a look of disgust came upon Gerard’s face. “Why? _Why?_ As if you don’t know.” Frank’s expression must have been answer enough, for Gerard half-shouted, “It’s your own damn fault!” before quickly spinning on his heel, exiting the room with a slam of the door.

Frank slowly sat up, shaken to the core. If he was in trouble before, he thought, he was dead for sure now.

 

_“Frank Iero’s jacket was found a little over an hour ago along the shore of Silver Lake by a search team. As I speak, the K-9 unit is attempting to trace a scent, but are having little luck. Efforts are being made to dredge the lake in case of a suicide or murder, but that may not be completed for another 12 hours. We ask the public to keep an eye out for this missing person. If you have any leads or know of his whereabouts on or after the night of August 4th, please call the number on your screen. Stay tuned for the latest updates on the president’s recent bill pas-”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also. I promise chapters will be longer as time goes on, I wrote the first one a while back and wasn't expecting it to get so many hits within the first two days of it being posted (I know it's not a lot in comparison to some, but it's a lot to me), so I have to get back into this story. Thank you for your patience!


	3. In a Room Without a Window in the Corner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Shadowplay by The Killers

Minutes?

Hours?

Days?

Frank thought he was going insane. At least, if he wasn’t already there, he was well on his way. What did Gerard mean, it was  _ his _ fault?

Obviously, it was just a trick to get under his skin. 

Obviously, it was working.

He didn’t hear as much in the silence: no screaming, no laughing, no guitar. He did hear several more thuds, though, and right after Gerard had left. Those, he figured, were real.

He began to regret refusing the offer for food and water. Sure, there might have been something in them, and sure, it may have been a fake offer and he wouldn’t have gotten anything at all, but at least he would have tried.

Now that he thought about it, drugged food would actually be nice. It would save him from having to go through all of this suspense and boredom and  _ thought _ . 

Yes, God forbid he thinks right now - he was running out of things to think about. Well, things he was  _ letting _ himself think about. With those going, going, almost gone, he was reaching dangerous territory. Soon, he would start thinking about his family. Wondering how much his mother had cried. Wondering if his father had cared. (He hadn’t really cared before this, not really, not after Frank came out.) He wondered if they had thought it was a big enough deal for them to call the police. Maybe they thought it was like that time he ran away when he was twelve, except now he was eighteen and could make his own decisions. Maybe-

No.

Stop.

Think of something nicer. The creek. The creek had always been a place that calmed him, but he knew he’d never think of it the same way, never return to its peace. But for now, he could try. He remembered the way his tattoos had lit up and the world seemed like a better place when he was thinking about it from a distance. 

God, he wanted a cigarette now. Well, he wanted something stronger, but he’d take anything.

No, he shouldn’t say that. After all, that’s what had gotten him here, hadn’t it? Wanting something stronger? He wondered what would have happened if he had refused the little pill. Would Gerard have walked away, maybe tried again later? Would he have taken advantage of his unbalanced state of mind, forcing the pill into his mouth? Did he have a backup plan at all?

The door opened, causing his thoughts to die and his attention to turn towards the man entering the room. He was briefly silhouetted in the light coming from an outside room or walkway, then the door closed behind him. As Frank’s eyes readjusted after the brightness, he saw that Gerard was carrying something in his hand. A plate? Had he decided to bring him food?

Frank stayed seated and silent as Gerard walked the few steps to the bed and set the plate down on the corner. He wanted to steal a glance and see what it was, but figured it would be best to maintain eye contact as the man sat down on the edge of the mattress. His eyes were unreadable, an analytical stare rather than the supposed “windows to the soul.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard started, “For the way that I acted the last time we spoke. I realize that it was unfair of me to automatically assume that you see your own faults; you probably think of yourself as normal. It’s okay, though. I’m going to help you.”

Well. That was exactly the opposite of what Frank had been expecting. Not, of course, that he expected anything at all - but if he  _ had _ , it wouldn’t have been that. “I don’t understand.”

“I shouldn’t have expected you to.” An overdramatic sigh. “You’re broken, Frank, and I want to fix you.”

“I’m not bro-”

“I’ve been watching you for a while. And while I obviously don’t know everything, as we’ve never had a conversation, I know enough. After all, it’s not normal to sneak out and smoke three times a week for several months. It may be normal to get a tattoo on one’s eighteenth birthday, but certainly not again and again - I’ve always been fascinated by your willingness to go through so much pain for this level of art. May I?”

Frank’s expression clouded with confusion. This guy was just  _ all _ over the place. “What?”

Gerard stood up and crossed back to the door, which the light switch was next to, then slid the dimmer control up so the light was at full brightness in a fraction of a second. Frank only got a moment’s relief from the blinding light as he threw his arm over his eyes before a hand was wrapped around his wrist, pulling it down again.

Gerard was kneeling in front of Frank now, inspecting the tattoos covering his arm. After a few seconds, he reached out to grab his other hand from where it was wrapped around his bare torso. Frank figured it was best not to fight it. As the cool air met his skin, he shivered, half from the temperature and half from how scared and exposed he felt. 

“You know, I’ve always loved the idea of a tattoo, but… Needles, you know?” Gerard murmured, fingers ghosting up Frank’s arms to his shoulders, steadying them so he could look at his chest. “When I would have to get a shot as a child, I needed two nurses to keep me from moving, and another one to actually administer the drug. There was nothing they could do about the screaming, though,” he mused with a wry chuckle, dropping his hands from Frank and looking into his eyes again.

“How long have you been watching me?” Frank asked, feeling bold. If Gerard wasn’t going to give any answers, at least Frank would know that he tried.

“You’ve held my interest for a while, Frankie. Of course, it was your beauty that first captivated me, but I’ve grown fond of other things as time went on. I think that I could love you very much, but we need to fix whatever is wrong in your head first.”

Frank didn’t even begin to know how to process that. He simply stared, wide-eyed, as the man leaned closer.

“It’s okay, though. We’ve got plenty of time for that.”

 

_ “Hello. You’ve reached Linda Iero. I’m not available at the moment, but if you could leave your name, number, and the reason for your call, I will get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you!” _

_ “At the tone, please record your message. When you are finished recording, you may hang up or press one for more options. To leave a callback number, press five.” _

_ Beep. _

_ “Hello, Mrs. Iero. This is Captain Toro from the police station. I just wanted to let you know that we have dredged the lake and found nothing. There seemed to be a scent trail from the jacket, but it only went to the road and stopped there. We suspect this was a kidnapping, not a murder. Please stop by the station so we can go over some details, or if you’d rather do it by phone, my number is 862-73…” _


End file.
